Gift for the Mail Girl
by sahdah
Summary: Soul's day begins on a dare, give the mail girl a Christmas gift and don't die doing it. A mail carrier AU. COVER ART by the lovely Nori-Wings. Check out her stuff at nori-wings . tumblr . com 3


Special thanks to TheFishyWitchy for helping me beta these shenanigans. Merry Christmas to Professor Maka who encourages this 3

Warnings: none

 **Gift for the Mail Girl**

Soul runs out of his flat, something he rarely does if he can help it. This is pressing though. He'd missed the mail lady every day this week and he was about to do it again. It was either run or he was going to be Black Star's gym bitch the first of the year, same as he has been last year. Ah, who was he kidding, he wanted to anyway, and getting back at Blake was just a perk. If he pulled it off.

He'd even worked from home today to be sure he'd catch her. However, engrossed with his project, he got sidetracked by his programming assignment and completely lost track of time. Now, here he is yelling; knowing he's going to come across as 100% creepy. Tall dude, white hair, red eyes- running after the small mail lady, this wasn't going to end well. Deep breaths, man, he kept repeating. Deep, fucking, breaths.

"Hey! Hey wait up!" Fuck, she was fast for being such a small thing. "Miss, hey- I forgot to set this out!" Maybe he deserved to be Star's gym rat partner, was he really this winded? Why, why had he agreed to this stupid shit again anyway? Oh yeah, because he'd been dared by Black Star, his loudmouthed-blue haired friend, and roommate. Give the cute mail girl a gift for Christmas and don't get killed doing it.

"Back off ass-hole!" She spins, brandishing pepper spray. Oh shit, fuck he should have counted on her being armed. "Oh?!" She's removing headphones, but Soul remains frozen in his tracks as she slowly lowers the pepper spray.

Shit, up close, he's feeling very intimidated by her. She is maybe average height, but there is something about her stance- combat boots?! Coupled with the pepper spray- this is a bad bad bad idea.

So he's holding his arms out in an I-come-in-peace gesture and ducking his tall frame just a bit. "Hey, sorry to chase you down like this-" He's got seconds. "I've got something I forgot to set out." Offering the brown paper wrapped box that's marked up, but now that he sees her he's second guessing every life decision that has brought him to this very moment.

"Does it have the adequate postage?" She inquires, hitching her bag more securely across her shoulders, extending a hand.

"Ah, it does." Soul's voice feels close to cracking, praying the lie isn't as blatant as he fears. Internal alarms on red alert. Could he go to jail for any of this? It's innocent...fuck why did he have to be so terribly, socially awkward. Fuck Black Star, and his fucked up dares.

She accepts the package, eyeing him critically. "You're 25 B, right?"

He's stumped. "Huh?"

"1140 River Lane 25 B." She repeats, looking up at him.

Her eyes are green, and she has freckles. Soul blinks as his address registers in his consciousness. "Uh- yeah."

"I take it you're Soul." She says, reading the package.

"How did you-" He starts to ask, because if he doesn't say anything she's going to hit him with the package, he know's what's written on it.

For: The Mail Girl, I promise this isn't anything offensive, it's the Holidays. Merry Christmas.

The return address! Oh hell, he's an idiot. Of course his name is written on the return address. "Never mind." He mumbles, hoping he doesn't sound as lame as he feels.

She's tapping the box as if she's trying to make up her mind. "Yes, but I also deliver the mail to your address. You don't look like the type to be subscribed to _Muscle and Fitness_ as Black Star."

"Ah, no. That's my roommate." He laughs, hoping to keep the conversation going. Noticing that she looks strong enough to kick his ass, and maybe that's why she's still talking to him.

"So, this is for me?" Her eyes cut through him.

"Yes." He says. "Look, I'd be happy to open the box myself. I- I'm terrible at this." He gestures vaguely.

"At?" She's hesitant, but there's a quirk to her lip and her eyes look mischievous. At least, that's what he's observing, he could be wrong.

"Talking to new people." He says, face flaming. Man fuck Black Star, never again! This will be last time, he gets roped into this shit.

Maybe his honesty makes her take pity on him. "I can. But stay. My name's Maka, by the way." She says extending her hand. He swallows hard as he takes it. "Soul."

Maka laughs, bright and carefree tapping the box again. "Yeah, I know. Remember."

Soul jams his hands deep in his pockets. As she undoes the wrapping. "So, what possessed you to give the mail girl a Christmas gift?"

Figuring it's best to answer truthfully, he says. "My roommate dared me to."

"Ah." Green eyes narrow at him for a moment. The box is now open in her hands and she starts to pull out several items. A Deathbucks gift card, another to Barnes and Noble, one to Death City Cinemas, a pair of high intensity shoe sole inserts, and on a complete whim he had also included a zip drive full of a variety of music he thought would make walking more interesting.

The few times he'd gotten home in time to run into her, she'd had ear buds in, and had been singing loudly to Michael Jackson, albeit slightly off key. It was endearing, and she was friendly enough to wave with a radiant smile. Really, he was just trying to be kind, and give pretty generic type things. But also, things she might actually like.

"Ah, Soul. This is too much." She says, looking at the items, examining the inserts curiously.

"You do walk a lot," he offers lamely.

"It's so... thoughtful." She's quiet, contemplative. Soul shuffles with indecision, failing at making a clean exit from the conversation.

He shrugs. "It's the holidays. It was great meeting you, Maka." He says her name, liking the way it sounds maybe a little too much. "Enjoy your weekend. Oh, the movie card has enough for you to take a friend-uh or boyfriend, whatever, so you don't have to go alone. Unless, you want to hoard it for yourself." She laughs at that, and it does weird things to his insides. He has a strong desire to make her laugh again, but decides to run before she tells him she does, in fact, have a boyfriend.

…

It's Saturday. Thursday and Friday went well without incident. He missed her those days, because of work, or the commute- Vegas traffic, the joys.

Black Star is in the living room practicing yoga, apparently there is a new, tall, smoking hot Japanese yoga instructor at the gym where he does side gigs as a personal trainer. YouTube is spouting off chaturangas or some such shit from Blake's over-sized smart TV, and Soul is in his room trying to finish the campaign mission of the latest Uncharted. Behind on his gaming.

The doorbell rings to a loud curse from Black Star, who had been attempting a more complicated head stand. There are loud voices and Soul catches snippets of an angry conversation in between bursts of rapid gunfire from his game, where the shit has just hit the fan in his boss fight.

"-no! That's not what I said." There's a loud shriek. "I asked you if you could introduce me!" Did Blake have a girl over?

"So what? You met, didn't you, so what can I say except you're welcome!" His roommate is heard at normal volume over the din of the major gun fight he's in. "I got to have more fun out of it this way. Fuck-"

Soul sits up, reaching for the mute. A loud crack, and his roommate yelling deems the situation more serious than he'd originally thought. He comes out into the hall to see Blake staggering, holding his head, clearly in pain- is that a bloody nose?! "- was that for, Maks?" The blue haired man bellows.

"Hey!" Soul yells running into the room. He's shit in a fight, but he can't stand by while someone attacks his roommate. He's stopped short by the scene that greets him. Their mail carrier is in the living room brandishing a book she's clearly just used to brain his roommate. "Maka?"

She has the good grace to blush, and he's trying to not commit that color to memory- had been thinking way too much about mail uniforms and combat boots all week.

"Hi Soul," she says.

"Shark Boy, meet my god-sis- Maka." Star groans from his yoga mat, then with a sweep of his legs knocks the girl on her ass, with an undignified startled screech. "There ya happy? Man, it's a lot easier to take you down when you're distrac-" Crack. "-ted." He barely manages before keeling over.

Maka smiles sheepishly from the jumbled pile she's in on the floor. "Hi."

"God-sister?" Soul repeats, arms crossed protectively over his chest. Trying to decide if he's the fool in some comedic cosmic plan.

"Um, yeah." She says, scrubbing a hand over her dirty blond bangs. "That's kind of why I'm here. I wanted to talk with you for a minute- ah, if you'll let me. I'd like a chance to explain."

Seeing as Star is currently knocked out for the time being, getting answers from the source would be great. He's equal parts embarrassed and trying not to let her cuteness affect him. Decides he'll hear her out, it's the least he can do. She hadn't ran from him when he gave her his random-ass-gift, after all.

He takes two slow strides over to her, trying and failing not to notice how her legs are bent and how she's propping herself on her elbows. He will not be Joe Gross, he will not. He offers her a hand and she takes it. Pulling herself up with ease, she is strong. "Ah, my room's this way. I guess." He's also scrubbing his beanie over his head.

She follows him down the hall, he's already sitting in his computer chair. So she takes a spot on his well made bed. Looks around, aside from the three screen computer display, of which one of the monitors she realizes is a TV with Uncharted paused mid boss battle, she also spies a keyboard, guitar, and an extensive vinyl record collection.

"So?" Soul drawls out, not entirely in control of his eyebrows disappearing behind his own frosty fringe.

The blush comes creeping back as she wrings her hands in the hem of her federal-blue standardized top. "Ah, well… do you remember those times we ran into each other when I was delivering mail?"

He nods, surprised and pleased she's remembered.

"Ah, well, it dawned on me that you were Blake's roommate. He's talked about you a lot, he made you sound pretty cool- I'm generally not interested in guys- but then I ran into you, I dunno you seem nice."

The color on her cheeks is distracting, but not nearly as distracting as the color of her eyes. Soul coughs looking over at his game. Her voice is cute, and he's not blind, she's very pretty (even in standard mail garb), and he's now got a slew of butterflies tearing up his insides.

He's not good at talking to girls. Scratch that, people in general. Thinks back to a particular math class about negative correlations, and tries not to scowl as he turns off the video game... Shakes his head, thinking of the many times he just wanted to say hi to her and ended up with a choked up "hey" and a wave. Fuck the social awkwardness that keeps him awake and anxious, long into the night wondering what she thinks of him.

 _I'm generally not interested in guys._

"So, I asked Blake if he would, you know, maybe introduce us. That blue-haired fucker said he would-" He can't help the burst of laughter at her explicative. "What? Oh yeah, sorry, but that asshole said he had it taken care of. So the other day when you said he dared you, I- I- why did you take his dare anyway?"

Green, green eyes bore into him with an intensity he is ill prepared to handle. "Ah-" His face is going hot. Shit, fuck fuck fuck. "I...really wanted to talk to you?" His hand is messing up his already wild hair. "It seemed like an innocent way to meet you... Star!" He groans, feeling embarrassed and irrationally angry. "He played me."

"Oh my Death," Maka's face lights up, and a prehistoric shriek rips from the depths of her chest. "You're right, wait?! Played you-"

The blood goes to ice in his body. "Like, he knows I've wanted to meet you for sometime. But I- you're- but being your friend would be super cool. You probably have a boyfriend, ah if that's weird-fuck!" Why does he have to suck at speaking words?

She keels over on his bed in a fit of giggles. "You're too cute, me- have a boyfriend."

And it sinks in, she doesn't have one- cool! But shit, that's not exactly an invitation to become one, either. Finally her laughter dies down and she rights herself.

"So, you're just, what? A super kind guy who gives all your mail carriers really good gifts?" Smile, 100 watts, it's a good thing he's sitting. Pretty sure that smile would make him weak in the knees.

"Nope, just the cute one." He winks at her, and is rewarded by pink tinted ears.

"Um, well." And now she's the one who's bashful. "Uh, are you busy, this afternoon?"

He indicates the screen and the clean room. "No, not particularly. Why?" He asks, with more confidence than he actually feels.

"Well... some guy gave me a gift card to the movies. I was wondering if you'd like to go with me?" Maka meets his gaze, they stare at one another, the tension rising between them.

"Oh?" He's not sure how to reply, of course he wants to go. But he's taken aback because she's the one who asked- which is actually really cool. "Well, maybe."

The fall of her face makes him rethink his plan of action. "I mean, there's this girl I just met. She's kind of cute and I was hoping to, I don't know, maybe ask her out. Except, she sort of chose a blue haired idiot to be her wing-man. I'm trying to get her number. Think, maybe you could help me?" he asks, handing her his phone, hoping his too sharp smile doesn't frighten her.

Her smile is back. "Yeah, I think I could." Typing quickly, and pausing for a moment, she hands him back his phone.

He looks at the frozen unsent Snapchat screen: Nice try shark boy! I asked you first =P

"So?" Her face is a frozen in a triumphant smile. "What movie would _you_ like to see?"

They end up choosing the latest Star Wars. Blake pauses in the doorway to give them some sappy doe-eyed look and ends up hauling ass to dodge the large programming manual Maka has picked up as ammunition. "Ungrateful minion! My plan worked, didn't it?" He yells, ducking into his room, and slamming his door.

Maka rubs a nervous hand up and down her arm, having used a book that didn't belong to her, her face is red. Soul is giving her a calculated look. "Remind me not to make you angry at a library...or ever." They both burst out laughing. "Alright, since you're taking me out. Can I at least drive us?"

"Yeah, okay." Since they have at least an hour and a half until the show starts. Maka excuses herself, ducking out of his room, mentioning something about using their bathroom to get dressed. When her intention to use the hall bathroom (read: Blake's room of doom,) becomes clear Soul quickly offers his in suite master bath. God-brother or not, he's unwilling to expose her to whatever chemicals are used to keep that man's hair, that particular shade of blue. Pleased that his mother drummed cleanliness into his genetic make-up.

Her face tints a light shade of pink, but she accepts the offer. When the door opens fifteen minutes later, Soul tries to remember polite protocol. Focusing hard on not staring, and failing miserably. Maka may have been cute in her mail carrier outfit, but in street clothes- holy hell, who knew flannel could look hot? "Ah, you look, great." He stumbles out, to which she colors lightly. Her hair is pulled back in twin half tails with the rest of it hanging behind her back. And are those skull bretts?

And how, how are her legs so long? She barely comes up to his shoulders? But seriously, red flannel top, with a flouncy- leather skirt, leggings, and- he grins- the ever present combat boots. Catching his lingering look on her shoes, she says. "Thank you so much for the inserts, by the way, they're super bouncy now." She illustrates this by rocking on the balls of her feet, skirt and hair swaying in a mesmerizing manner.

Soul wills down his coloring cheeks, "Ah yeah, no problem. Mom recommended them- she's a chef. Uh, long hours on her feet-" He adds by way of explanation. "You ready?"

She nods her head, and he hands her a helmet. "What?"

"You're gonna need it." He grins, walking her out of his room and through the condo to the garage. As the door opens it illuminates a very orange, very sleek, sportster. He crosses the mostly pristine garage to a locker on the far end and pulls out a helmet which he dons, stuffing his beanie in a back pocket. And walks back to her, offering a sleek leather jacket that actually compliments her outfit nicely.

He doesn't miss the long calculated look she gives the jacket. "It's my mom's spare, she'd kill me if anything happened- you know, for being irresponsible." Soul looks at her earnestly.

After a second, she accepts it with a small smile. "So... have you ever ridden on a bike?" He asks.

"A few times, with Blake." Her face frowning in such a way, Soul is curious about her reaction but doesn't inquire further. Of course, Blake's tricked out Ninja is also occupying space in the garage. Soul get's it, those are a little more tricky. Tries not to be jealous, cause you definitely press up against the driver... he coughs.

"Okay so hanging on, on one of those is different. On this one, you can hang on here," he indicates a strap on the seat that will end up between her legs. "Or here." He indicates a place behind her seat. And she notices him going a little red. "Or you can hang on to- to me. If you like." He ends up clearing his throat again.

Maka is touched that he is thoughtful enough to give her options that don't include needing to hold onto him. Clearly for her sake, maybe? Watches as he slips on his own jacket, zipping the leather up to his throat, and she does the same. Blushing, again! Damnit all, as her eyes linger on his well formed ass in dark jeans. Blaming him because she'd noticed when he'd stuff his beanie there, actually- scratch that, it's been happening more often than she should admit when she delivers the mail.

So she scuffs a boot on the concrete as he kicks his leg over the incredible machine to turn it on. The roar is deafening in the confined space. Maka quickly climbs on scooting close to Soul, hesitating a breath before wrapping her arms firmly, around his waist, and gripping his hips with her knees, the way Blake had told her to, the few times they rode together. She's trying so hard not to focus on the proximity of the boy tucked so intimately between her legs, and what the vibrations of the powerful machine are doing to her insides.

Arriving at Death City Cinema's is a blessing. The movie is fun, Soul is sidetracked thinking of the programming it must have taken with all the effects, but the best part is seeing Maka's reactions. She loses herself in the movie, and he's more entertained watching the movie through her eyes than he is concerned with actually seeing the thing.

It feels like it ends so suddenly. They're back outside blinking in the lights of the city, Soul not having been allowed to pay since she was the one who invited, and asks if she's hungry.

Maka doesn't have time to answer because her stomach lets out a fearsome grumble that both surprises her and Soul. "I'll take that as a yes." He chortles. Pulling out his smart phone he consults an app, a large, sharp-toothed grin spreading across his face. "Do you like Japanese food?" Maka nods. "Okay, so it's different. It's...more of a burger thing- with a Japanese twist." He offers, with a shrug.

"Sounds good to me." She says, climbing behind Soul who is back on his bike, zipping his jacket and strapping on his helmet. She had opted to wear the jacket in so she accepts the helmet he hands back to her, eager for the excuse to wrap herself around him once more. Doesn't hurt that he smells really good, and she tucks her chin in close to his ear to ask where they're going.

"You'll see," He says, gunning the bike and making her squeal in surprise and wrap herself tightly around him. Was his chest rumbling or was that the bike vibrating through him?

The ride is exhilarating as Soul weaved in and out of traffic easily. Parking, at last, in a lot next to a nice park, the hot desert air cooling rapidly in the impending twilight. Glad for the jacket, Maka snuggles in comfortably, and then exclaims. "Ah Fuk-u-burger! It's a favorite of mine."

Soul bursts out in a fit of laughter, "Dude Maka, I think it's Fuku Burger." The laughter dying on his lips as she levels him with a green fire glare, before bursting into giggles and running up to the window.

The thrill of her look hasn't quite escaped him as he joins her at the window where she's chatting animatedly with the girls in charge. He joins just as she's paying. Well there goes that, he thinks.

"Soul-bro!" The taller, Asian girl exclaims as he opens his mouth to order, and it snaps shut in affronted confusion. He rarely comes to the food truck, and he's never caught her name before. Fuck his weird looks.

"Uh- hi." He stammers, face burning from Maka's curious stare.

"I didn't know you'd met, Tsubaki?" Maka directs her question at her acquaintance, thank all fuck, Soul tries not to wheeze.

"We haven't." The tall girl says to Maka, and apologizes to him.

 _Soul-bro_ is normally something Black Star yells, when he gets dragged off to the gym.

"Um-" and the girl is turning red. "There's a guy at the gym, he usually yells, a-a lot, and he is always with him." She's indicating Soul. By this point the other girl in the truck is leaning into the conversation.

"You mean that loud one with the blue hair?" She asks. Of course, of course Black Star leaves his mark everywhere he goes. And then Maka is laughing and he doesn't care about the conversation anymore.

"Omg, you mean Blake." Maka is bursting with giggles. "Wait! You started teaching at the gym near here recently didn't you?"

The busty one with the purple hair is nodding. And there is a rather sinister glint to Maka's green eyes, and then it hit's soul. "Yoga instructor."

Tsubaki is blushing furiously, but finally succeeds in taking Soul's order, and after a few minutes Blair brings out their food. "You know, I think she'd do anything to get a date with the blue one." She winks one positively golden-eye at the two of them, and then smiling adds. "You two are cute together." Before sauntering off.

Maka is tinting pink, and Soul finds he isn't mad about it. When they finish, Soul offers to take her trash to the nearest can, his fingers brushing hers just a little as they exchange the remains of their meal. Mostly burger wrappers and empty cups. She's still sitting at the table when he returns and he offers her a hand, and finds he doesn't want to let go when she's standing, pleased when she squeezes it just a little and doesn't let go.

The girls from the truck send them off with cat calls, and Maka turns into him to wave them off. When she turns back, they start to walk to the bike and she gives him a hip nudge. "You thinking what I'm thinking?" It's conspiratorial.

Many, many things are going through his mind at the moment, so to be safe he asks. "What's the plan?"

And her laughter takes on an evil cat tonality he associates with a favorite Disney movie. This might end badly for someone. "We're going to pay your dear old roommate back! But we can discuss that tomorrow."

He's once again handing her the helmet. _Tomorrow._ He likes the sound of that. "Not sick of me yet?" He's curious.

"Nope." She says with a smile.

The drive home is now much cooler than when they had ventured out this afternoon, so a few minutes into the drive he envelops her tiny hands in his. Trying not to feel entirely too pleased when she squeezes him with her entire body- tries not to go there-hopes his mind doesn't take him there when he's sleeping. He's better than that or rather, he tries to be.

He finds that he doesn't want this night to end. It's a super-moon he realized as he's driving them home, making random patterns on the soft skin of her hands. It's something he likes to do, watch the moon from the top of his roof.

The house is strangely absent of noise when they walk inside. Blake must have gone out- Oh Shit! Soul runs to the refrigerator where they have their white message board. It's usually populated with notes of "Take out the fucking trash" or "Call your mom u white haired fuck." But right this moment, there are condoms taped all over the fucking thing with a note of "U knock her up- I knock you out!" He dashes at the thing, probably drawing more attention to it now, and rips it off the fridge firing it off into the adjoining utility room like a morbid game of ultimate Frisbee gone wrong as several foil wrapped packages spin off of it. One sliding through Maka's long legs only to stop ominously a foot or two beyond her combat boots.

What is air? Soul is trying not to wheeze when she bends over picking up the gold foiled item. He turns beet red as his pants twitch, who the fuck bends like that in an impossibly short skirt? Decides that burying his face in his hands on the countertop is an appropriate response to the stress he's experiencing and tries to suck down oxygen, willing himself to be the man of four and twenty that he is, damnit all.

"Blake, he's so original." Maka drawls in a valley girl impression of his roommate so spot on it breaks the tension in his bones.

"Sorry." He mutters.

"Don't be." She's close.

He shuffles nervously as he asks her. "Maka, would you like to see something?" A shift in her eyes and her face is going red. The look was so fleeting, and maybe he's feeling hot too now. He takes her hand, enjoying the easy contact and thrilled by the energy that passes between them.

Out through the back door and around the corner to where there is a ladder leaning against the house and the garage.

"Soul," His name on her lips makes him stop. "Where are you taking me?"

"It's a supermoon-we should be able to see it from the rooftop. This is where I usually go to get away from Star." He adds, as he climbs up easily, when he steps off and looks down, she's already half-way up, and he offers her a hand again.

Soul guides her to his usual spot. The night sky is bright, thankfully the Strip is behind them so it works to their advantage. The moon bright above, the night air is chilly. And then it hits him, he only has one small beach chair up here that he hooks over the peak. He says as much.

It's hard to tell in the night light, but Maka mumbles something, then clears her throat and tries again. "You sit." She waits for him to do so before she toes his feet apart with her boot and moves to sit cross-legged in between his legs, hooking her arms around his knees so she doesn't slip off the still sun heated roof. "Is this okay?" It's a whisper.

Fuck yeah it's okay. "Uh- yeah." He whispers, desperately wanting to wrap his arms around her waist in much the same way she had wrapped hers around him. The moon holds absolutely no appeal anymore, not with the ash blond shining in front of him. "Maka?"

She hmms in response. "Can I touch you?" He want's to, but doing it without asking seems like such a breach in respect, hands they'd established as a safe zone- but.

The way her breath catches, he realizes what he said might not be kosher, but before he can withdraw his request, she says yes. He's never felt like he has big hands until he places them carefully on her shoulders, she's larger than life-but also petite of frame. She is melting under his touch, he'd been thinking about this since they talked- the way she hitched up her messenger bag. That thing had to weigh several pounds.

This is a very bad idea, his pants are becoming restrictive, and shit, fuck- the way she's arching back and rolling her neck, the small moans she's eliciting- fuck, fuck, fuck! He can't stop, hands moving of their own volition to soothe sore, tight muscles in her neck, tugging just a little on her ear lobes. Pianist hands on the rarest of ivory. Fingers long enough that he touches the barest outline of her collar bones. He's a dead man.

"Soul," The way she extends his name does not help the pants situation. "That feels so...so...good." He's leaned forward pulled in by her, and she's leaned back, and their heads are now touching, his forehead to the top of hers- whatever she uses in her hair has now become his favorite smell in the world. Something like pines in winter and maybe cinnamon. It has notes of Christmas, but so much better.

He does end up with his arms wrapped around her small frame, drawing her in tightly for just a few seconds before releasing. Why does this feel so right? His arms are long enough, he takes her hands in his again, she interlacing her fingers in his. Somehow his chin is now on her shoulder, her head is leaned into his, it's comfortable. Soul is watching their fingers dance together, the energy humming between them. When the fuck had hands become so sensual?

Maka's hands are tiny, perfect half moon cuticles ending in short blunt nails, one ring on her left index finger. He slides a finger around it. "This looks special." He comments, wondering if maybe it was from an old flame.

Her head leans away from his contemplating it, "It was my mama's."

Her hands continue moving in and out of his fingers, the contact leaves him feeling tingly. "She gave it to me after she left my papa. Said I should keep it." He's listening, her voice sounds distant. "That was ten years ago. I was fourteen."

Ten, fourteen, oh. She laughs giggles abruptly. "Oh gosh, that's part of the reason I didn't let you buy me dinner."

"Oh?" He's curious.

"It's just, I don't know." She's holding still, and he's reminded of a frightened rabbit. But, he gets it.

"Conventional dating rules are outdated." He says. "It's cool you paid."

She twists in his arms at that, bringing them face to face in very close proximity. "You're being serious?"

And he is. "Yeah, ah, so I had this fall out with a girl. It burned out before it started. Ah, she just-" How to put this sensitively. "-had this air of entitlement. Like because she knew my family is wealthy, she just had some strange level of expectations and me being young and stupid went along with it, until." His leg has started to bounce and it stops when she starts running her hands up and down his calves in a soothing manner. "Ah, so...when it became apparent what she thought dinner entailed, I peaced out. It wasn't something I was interested in- not with her at any rate."

Her hands still at that. "Look, Maka, I'll be honest. My relationship experience is zero. I-" Was there anyway to stop the word vomit about to occur? "I think the last time I kissed anyone was that failed date and that's probably weird. I just don't think meaningful relationships need to be forced. Like take for instance parentals, siblings, friends- those relationships happen naturally, not forced. I just don't get the rest of the other stuff." Her hand has continued moving up and down on his calf and it feels good, distractingly good.

"So...what if a girl pays for her own dinner and she's interested in maybe more?" It's quiet and soft.

"Well-" Holy fuck! He hadn't really, nope this is uncharted territory, he lets out a shaky breath. "I think that is between two people, and whatever they might consent to as adults."

Maka shifts from her seated position now kneeling in between his legs. "Soul," Green eyes search his, and dart more than a few times to his lips. He watches her lips part as she forms the net words. "Kiss me-" He's pretty sure he moved before she finished the last syllable, lips meeting hers. Hands tangled in her soft, soft hair, tasting her chapstick, her tongue hesitant but curious. Mindful as he slides his carefully against hers. Trying to ignore Black Star's many jabs at such a _godly specimen_ his words, not Souls. _Dude, my som-bro-ro do you even know what the senoritas would do if they had any notion of that thing?_ No, no, no because now he is sort of curious, and a curious flit of her tongue, has Maka breaking the kiss with a surprised, "oh!"

He's scrubbing a hand through his hair. "Your tongue is pierced."

"Yeah." What else can he say? Maybe that's the end of it, he isn't the same after. Small hands run up his jaw and gently tug his face closer, warm lips meet his again, his hands find her hips, and a very curious tongue meets his. Ah fuck, if this is kissing, he's a converted man.

Maka nuzzles his head with hers, "Soul, let's go inside?"

Inside her phone is ringing, and Maka picks it up from the kitchen countertop. Soul decides going to his room affords her the most privacy, and he kicks off his boots laying down on the far side of his bed. It's quiet inside the condo, the clock on his bedside table indicates it's well past midnight. It's weird feeling this happy- he's not a bit surprised when Maka walks into his room, still on the phone. "Yes, papa you can go to bed. No, I'm staying at Tsubaki's tonight. Yes. Love you too." She hangs up the phone placing it on Soul's bedside table.

He props himself up. "You headed out?"

A hand touches his face, and he feels so hot when she shakes her head. "Unless you want me to go."

He shakes his head, while pulling her onto the bed with him. She resists only to kick off her boots, and then she climbs into the bed nestling herself against his side, shoulder in the crook of his arm as if she's been there his whole life. "Good." She whispers kissing his neck, and the fire from the rooftop continues.

Maka's hands have a mind of their own, she runs her fingertips along the waistband of his jeans feeling his hot skin, and she wants more. Her hands grip the hem of the shirt and start tugging up. Soul sits up dragging the shirt up and over his head, revealing lean muscles and oh- a rather large scar that crosses his chest. Soul stills as she runs her fingers lightly over the scars. "What happened?"

"Car accident." He responds, not sure if he should elaborate. It must show, her hand is tracing patterns on his face, fingers carefully running over his eyebrows.

"You look like, like it was serious." She says, he's distracted by the freckles that dot her nose. "I hope that you can tell me about it someday."

She pulls him close, his head resting on her chest listening to the steady strum of her heart and he still feels happy. "Soul?"

"Yes." He whispers to her chest.

"I lied to my papa." She says quietly, fingers scratching at his scalp gently. "I wasn't planning on staying at Tsubaki's."

Propping his chin on her chest, his eyebrows disappear under the frosty fringe of his hair. "Oh?"

"I want to stay," her whisper tickles his face. "Is that okay?"

"Ah yeah." What's she mean though? They've been sort of start stop all evening, not that he'd ever expected they might make it to this point. Her wanting to stay, even if it's just to sleep over has his body tingling.

"Can I borrow a shirt to sleep in?" All green eyes, and pink cheeks.

Soul scrambles from the bed to his dresser picking out an orange and white baseball-t. "Maka, when you say-"

"I want to so bad," she says, cutting him off. "I just, don't have any idea what I'm doing. I never dated, kissed maybe a few times. I'm on the pill, had issues with my cycle, and then Blake also left all those condoms...but I'm a- I've never. And I think kissing you is so awesome, and I want to so bad, but it doesn't have to be tonight. I just want to stay, is that okay?"

"How are you so cool?" Soul asks tugging her in close, kissing her nose eliciting a giggle. "I just got a freebie toothbrush from the dentist, if you want."

They end up brushing their teeth together, Soul leaves her in the bathroom to get dressed as he ducks into his closet to don a set of flannel sleep pants and a tank top. He's turning down his sheets when she comes out of the bathroom, wearing just the shirt if the way it puckers on her chest is any indication. His face feels warm, and he averts his eyes but lands on her legs instead. "Shirt looks way better on you." He mumbles flustered.

She giggles. "I take it you probably sleep closest to the door?"

Soul nods, watching helplessly as she climbs into his bed. He slides in after her and she nestles close to him, shoulder to shoulder, heads leaning together and she interlaces her fingers with his.

"You know we're going to have to fuck with Blake for everything he did, right?" She's whispering conspiratorially, Soul is forcibly reminded of when he'd sneak off to Wes' room, little and scared, Wes would talk to him until he fell asleep. This is so much more different- charged.

"What'd you have in mind?"

They talk long into the night, about to the point where he's not sure if conversation hasn't morphed into a dream or vice versa. The last thing he remembers her say is, "Soul, I'm so glad you took him up on his dare."

Christmas isn't for another few days, but Soul can't help but feel like, somehow, it came early this year.


End file.
